


Old Stories, New Friends

by Halmaithor



Series: The Way Back Home [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Humor, I was gonna put 'attempt at humour' but you know what? Believe in yourself!!!, M/M, Past Character Death, you know the drill Raymond is Alec's next life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25167889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halmaithor/pseuds/Halmaithor
Summary: ‘Ray!’ the stranger says, and Magnus puts the pieces together – the sudden appearance, the strange rush of magic coming his way as they advance, the way Raymond steps forward into their embrace.‘Hi, Mum,’ Raymond says softly, confirming it once and for all.In which Magnus meets Raymond's mother.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: The Way Back Home [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1714231
Comments: 11
Kudos: 79





	Old Stories, New Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ValkyrieNyght](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValkyrieNyght/gifts).



> Hey guys! Welcome back to this 'verse, aha, hope you enjoy this instalment - particularly ValkyrieNyght, to whom credit goes for the cake story ^^

‘Are you busy this week?’

Magnus looks up from his desk, and the sight of Raymond standing in the doorway, leaning _just so,_ is so familiar that his heart gives a pang that’s somewhere between grieving and grateful – also familiar, these days. ‘Not especially,’ he says with a smile. ‘In fact, the largest bulk of my work got finished today – that invisibility potion I mentioned yesterday was sent off just a few minutes ago.’   
‘For that guy who’s worried about a stalker?’  
‘The very same.’ Magnus closes the book he’d been using – the Morrovalian collection, this time. He’s always found her insights on complex glamors more comprehensive than Tauron’s, and her blander potion bases tend to blend well with Magnus’ own penchant for making personalised adjustments to the recipe and weaving in extra protective charms. If his client feels threatened enough to drink the potion, he’ll be invisible in five seconds rather than the usual fifteen; and not only that, but as long as he carries the potion on his person, he’ll be semi-bulletproof, a thin protective ward on his skin slowing any small projectile’s trajectory to half-speed.

Magnus rises from his seat, wandering over to meet his boyfriend in the doorway. ‘Why do you ask, anyway?’ he asks with a small grin. ‘Wait, let me guess – you plan on whisking me away to the Swiss Alps, just as you keep threatening to.’   
Raymond fondly rolls his eyes. ‘No. Although I maintain that when your boyfriend’s a thousand years old-‘ he pointedly ignores Magnus’ indignant sputter, forging straight ahead – ‘it’s difficult to find new experiences for _both_ of you, and if skiing’s one of them then we ought to take advantage.’ His smile softens. ‘But not this week. I actually wondered if you’d like to come stay in London for a bit – we’re not sure exactly, but we think my mum’s due any day now, and I’m sure she’d love to meet you.’

Magnus’ own smile softens in return, and he reaches out, letting his fingers dance gently on his boyfriend’s arm, just above the elbow. Perhaps an onlooker wouldn’t have noticed the slight nervousness in his stance, but Magnus has known this man for a lifetime already, and so he sees the subtle relaxation when he nods in agreement. ‘That sounds perfect,’ he says.

Raymond grins suddenly. ‘Even better than the Swiss Alps?’ he teases.   
‘Yes, even better than the Swiss Alps,’ Magnus chuckles. ‘When do you want to leave?’

  
Fifteen minutes later, Magnus has packed a small suitcase and given the proper ‘out of office’ notifications to his business contacts, and the two of them are stepping through the portal hand-in-hand. 

  
***

  
Three days later, they’re wandering back from Richmond Park, a lot slower than the Mundanes around them who are trying to get out of the thunderstorm. Raymond’s holding a large, clear umbrella above them both, and Magnus tries not to eye it with too much suspicion.

Raymond sighs. ‘Go on, then.’   
‘What?’ Magnus says, distractedly, even as his eyes drop from the umbrella to meet his boyfriend’s amused gaze.   
‘Check the spell. I know you want to.’   
Magnus pulls a face, feeling a little guilty. Apparently, it’s not just the umbrella that’s transparent today. ‘It’s not that I don’t trust you,’ he explains, ‘and electric repulsion is definitely within your considerable skillset, I know that – ‘  
 _‘Magnus,’_ Raymond interrupts with a laugh. ‘Check the damn spell, okay? I’ve been studying magic for about one percent of the time you have, I’m not gonna be offended. Especially since you’re only checking it for _my_ safety.’

Magnus gives a sheepish smile, letting a barely-there tendril of magic curl out towards the clear canopy over their heads. ‘You are altogether too tall to be carrying an umbrella in this weather,’ he grumbles, still feeling the need to justify himself, despite Raymond’s invitation. ‘Forgive my paranoia, but it’s rather hard to _un_ -imagine you acting as a tragically beautiful lightning rod.’

Raymond just smiles, shaking his head fondly – and looking back up as he seemingly feels Magnus’ spell fizzle out. ‘Well?’ he prompts.   
‘Perfect,’ Magnus says, feeling decidedly like an old worrywart – but also not-inconsiderably reassured by confirming the spell’s efficacy. ‘I should have known.’

They make it back to the house without being struck by lightning, of course, and the moment Raymond shuts the door Magnus waves a hand, banishing any residual rainwater.   
Raymond shoots him a grateful smile, toeing off his shoes and tucking them into the low wooden shoe rack, before standing aside to let Magnus do the same. ‘Hello!’ he calls into the house at large. ‘We’re back!’

Magnus looks back up – and nearly jumps out of his skin as an unfamiliar figure _appears_ in the nearest doorway.   
‘Ray!’ the stranger says, and Magnus puts the pieces together – the sudden appearance, the strange rush of _magic_ coming his way as they advance, the way Raymond steps forward into their embrace.   
‘Hi, Mum,’ Raymond says softly, confirming it once and for all. ‘When did you get here?’  
‘An hour ago,’ Arthur chimes in, coming out of the living room to stand in the doorway the demon’s just vacated. ‘I’m glad you’re back. Any longer, I’m pretty sure her patience would have run out and she would have come to find you.’   
‘Oh, shut up,’ the demon says – albeit affectionately, rolling her eyes in much the same way Raymond does when he’s bickering with a loved one. ‘I would have glamoured before just _appearing_ in the middle of London.’ She pauses, raising an eyebrow. ‘Probably.’ 

Magnus snorts at the joke, and the demon’s gaze whips towards him. ‘Oh,’ she says – no, _purrs,_ stepping around her son and assessing Magnus with obvious delight. ‘You must be the boyfriend.’   
‘I suppose I must be,’ Magnus agrees, holding out his hand with a smile and dropping his glamor in deference. ‘I’m Magnus.’

Raymond’s mom blinks in surprise – but then she smiles all the wider, taking his hand in a firm clasp as she drops a part of her own disguise, her eyes flashing blood-red and her honey-blonde hair seeming to glitch into smoke, just for a moment. _‘Enchanté,’_ she says, her glamor snapping back into place, though Magnus keeps his down, for now – after all, this is a warlock residence, and these days he feels less of an urge to hide away in trusted company. ‘I’m Anya.’

Arthur clears his throat. ‘Now that we’ve got the introductions out of the way, how about we stop standing around in the hall and go sit down?’ he asks, the barest hint of a smirk on his lips. Magnus stifles his own grin. It would seem that Raymond’s dry, good-natured wit is more than simply a holdover from Alexander’s snark. It’s nature _and_ nurture, apparently.

‘Yes, yes, alright,’ Anya says, sweeping into the living room and taking one of the armchairs, before summoning four cups of what’s quickly revealed to be Lady Grey tea. ‘Now,’ she says expectantly, the long pleats of her dress flourishing into an elegant drape as she crosses her legs. ‘Tell me _everything.’_

  
***

  
They talk for hours.   
  


‘I’m sorry, you met in the _eighteenth century?’  
_ ‘We did. His name at the time was Édouard Albert…’

  
‘…So, essentially, between the outer planetary alignment and whatever nonsense the Seelie Queen was up to that night, it resulted in the magical equivalent of a condom breaking, I suppose.’  
‘God, Mum, do we _have_ to talk about this? I’m sure Magnus doesn’t want to know.’  
‘Oh, don’t be so bashful, Raymond. It’s only biology – and a rather astonishing coincidence at that. Why wouldn’t he be interested?’

  
‘Oh, I completely forgot to ask! How’s school?’  
‘Mum, I’m twenty-seven. Studying at the Labyrinth isn’t _school.’_  
‘Sorry, sweetheart. I forget how grown-up you are, sometimes. How’s the Labyrinth? Have you made any new friends?’  
‘…Yes, actually.’

  
‘Magnus, did Ray ever tell you about his mum turning up with a cake on his eighth birthday?’  
‘No, I don’t think so – ‘  
‘Arthur! For goodness’ sakes, will you let that bloody cake thing go? I thought nineteen years was supposed to be a long time for mortals.’   
‘Anya, dear, there’s a statute of limitations on most things, but that cake is _really_ not one of them.’   
‘It was a fruitcake! I was trying to encourage healthy eating.’  
‘And getting a jump on our son’s alcohol tolerance, apparently. You should have tasted it, Magnus – it was like lighter fluid, I swear. The amount of _rum_ in it…’

  
‘Oh, he’s _adorable._ How old is he here?’  
‘Seven, I think. His horns were just starting to curl, see, where they’d grown straight before.’   
‘How lovely. Maybe you could bring him along next time? If he’d like to, of course.’   
‘I’m sure he would. Rafe too, maybe, if he’s feeling up to it. After all, it’s not every day one gains a new grandmother.’   
_‘Grandmother._ Imagine that. Mind you, I might have to keep it somewhat quiet – I doubt it’ll be good for business.’

  
Eventually, Arthur stands up. ‘Right. Anyone want another cup of tea?’  
Magnus starts to wave a hand. ‘Oh, I’ll just-‘  
‘No, no, I’ll make it,’ Arthur says hurriedly.   
Anya chuckles. ‘I’ve told you, it’s purely psychological. There isn’t _actually_ any difference between brewed tea and summoned tea.’   
‘Maybe not to you magic people. But I still think the magic gives it a weird aftertaste,’ Arthur insists, before collecting the mugs and heading out to the kitchen.

Anya sits back with a sigh, smiling. ‘Raymond,’ she says airily, ‘go and give your dad a hand in the kitchen, would you?’   
Raymond gives her a look that clearly says _I see through you,_ but he does as he’s told, squeezing Magnus’ shoulder as he leaves. ‘Be nice,’ he warns his mother, chuckling at her gasp of offense.

Magnus watches him go, and then turns politely back to Anya, mentally preparing himself for what he expects the conversation to be, and suppressing a smile at the curious swell of nostalgia. _Shovel talk from an honest-to-gods demon. Sorry, Jace, wherever you are – think you’re about to meet your match in terms of intimidation._

Then again, it’s not really a fair comparison. For one thing, Anya’s not currently surrounded by cats.   
For another, she’s not currently living rent-free in Magnus’ house.   
No wonder Jace had felt the need to overcompensate with the scowling, Magnus thinks with some amusement.

He refocuses on Anya – but instead of a warning, she gives a soft smile. ‘I know you, Asmodei,’ she says quietly.

Magnus sits up a little straighter, taken aback. _Asmodei._ ‘You knew my father,’ he says cautiously, resisting the urge to glamor away his tell-tale eyes.   
‘Not personally,’ Anya corrects him, though she’s still smiling. ‘Only by reputation, and only enough that I knew to stay the hell out of his way – of course, that was until word got out about you banishing him back in the teens.’ She raises an eyebrow, seemingly impressed. ‘You must be powerful, to have managed such a thing. Ray’s lucky to have someone like you looking out for him.’   
Magnus tilts his head graciously. ‘Thank you,’ he acknowledges. ‘But if you didn’t know my father, then how do you know me? I assumed you’d recognised my eyes, but…’

‘I did.’ She stands, sitting on the other half of the couch, but close enough that their ankles brush together. ‘I spend a lot of time in the space between worlds,’ she says, as if confiding a secret.   
With good reason, of course. Magnus feels his eyes widen. ‘That’s… a hard place to get to,’ he comments, a little awed.   
Anya laughs – a deep, sonorous sound, echoing underneath her more human register, and Magnus suddenly gets the strange feeling that Anya is _older_ than him. Well, that’s certainly something of a novelty. ‘It’s not easy,’ she agrees, ‘but it’s worth the effort. Technically, I hail from Dudael, but my kind have always had a certain freedom of mobility between the planes that our brethren don’t share. Personally, I like to use it to put a certain amount of distance between myself and my… _liege.’_  
She says the word with a slight sneer, and Magnus’ mouth tightens. ‘Believe me, I can understand that,’ he mutters. His own run-in with Azazel was hardly fun, after all.

She nods. ‘Well, it went double while I was pregnant, of course,’ she says – and her gaze shifts into something faraway, a bare glimmer of red shining through her pupils. ‘I would lie on my back, inconceivable distances from any other living thing – besides my little Bump, of course – and watch the passage of souls,’ she murmurs. Her focus seems to clear, and her eyes flick back to Magnus. ‘And I would dream,’ she whispers. ‘And in those in-between places, where souls grow fuzzy at the border, they weren’t ordinary dreams. They were my Raymond’s memories.’

Magnus swallows. ‘What memories?’ he asks, his voice hoarse around the lump in his throat because he knows the answer, but he needs to hear it.   
Anya takes his hand in hers, looking down at where they interlink and moving her thumb carefully – affectionately, even – over his tense knuckles. ‘You, mostly,’ she says. ‘Your eyes – your _real_ eyes – sparkling in the sun on a beach somewhere, or in the dappled light of a forest. The way you laughed, too, at a thousand different jokes but always so _joyful,_ no matter the occasion.’   
She meets his gaze again, her grip on his hand tightening for a moment. ‘And there was one memory in particular,’ she says quietly. ‘One that came more than any other. He would dream of dancing with you – holding you close, and slowly swaying to _What a Wonderful World.’_

Magnus closes his eyes, losing the battle against tears as they slowly roll down his cheeks. ‘Our wedding,’ he mumbles, clearing his throat and dashing away the wetness from his face. ‘Mine and Alexander’s wedding – our first dance.’

‘Well,’ Anya murmurs, laying her other hand on top of their joined ones, ‘that explains it. That must have been one of his happiest memories, to come through so often. With that context, I can understand why.’

They’re quiet for a few moments, and then Magnus sighs, the wave of emotion abating enough for him to speak more clearly. ‘I thought I was the only keeper of those memories, now,’ he says. ‘I had no idea you would have seen them, even from the in-between. I didn’t know how… _present_ they would be, after Raymond’s soul – _Alexander’s_ soul – moved on.’   
‘The soul remembers what the mind forgets,’ Anya says kindly. ‘But they _are_ in there, Magnus. After all, I daresay that’s why you two are such a good fit, despite meeting so recently – he knows you soul-deep, though his consciousness would insist that you’re new.’

She lifts one of her hands, cradling Magnus’ jaw. ‘That’s quite a bond for two people to have,’ she murmurs. ‘And I’m glad for my son to have it, especially after getting to know you a little. I’m so happy that you two found each other again.’

Raymond reappears a few moments later, frowning when he notices Magnus’ watery eyes, but apparently accepting his smile as proof that nothing’s wrong.   
Still, when he reclaims his place on the couch, he throws an arm around Magnus’ shoulders, holding him close as the conversation turns to his study of summoning circles.

And Magnus leans back into the comfort of closeness, and thinks, _So am I.  
_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, please let me know if you enjoyed it! <3
> 
> [Find me on tumblr!](https://silver-latin-and-salt.tumblr.com)


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